<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>I Can Tell That Something's Wrong by TheMutantHonk, WhumpFish</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619624">I Can Tell That Something's Wrong</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMutantHonk/pseuds/TheMutantHonk'>TheMutantHonk</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhumpFish/pseuds/WhumpFish'>WhumpFish</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Watch Me Take A Good Thing [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Burns, Dick Grayson Whump, Eye Trauma, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt No Comfort, Identity Reveal, Injury, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Major Character Injury, no beta we die like robins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:42:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,986</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29619624</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMutantHonk/pseuds/TheMutantHonk, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhumpFish/pseuds/WhumpFish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dick uh.” Tim’s eyes darted to Damian, Bruce, then held with Jason’s. He belatedly realized he was gripping the counter, and forced his fingers to relax as Tim continued. “It doesn’t look like he went home after he went out last night as Nightwing."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dick Grayson &amp; Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Watch Me Take A Good Thing [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2186415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>105</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Can Tell That Something's Wrong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Warnings at the end. Please let me know if I missed tagging or warning for something. I did my best not to. Take care of yourselves. </p><p>Jason's POV of <i>Nothing I Wanna Say.</i> I wouldn't promise this is stand alone, but it's not absolutely necessary to read that to follow this, if torture squicks you. This is the immediate aftermath and rescue of said torture. I've been writing quite a bit on this over the last week, and I kind of wanted to be finished enough to post it on febuwhump's Recovery day, but I haven't actually gotten to the. Yanno. Recovery part, if we're gonna split hairs about it. I do have tentative plans to post more, however, just because I will be so frustrated if I've spent all that time writing for nothing. </p><p>All mistakes are my own and I'm happy to fix anything I missed in the twelve agonizing rereads before posting. As far as canon goes... I've cherry-picked what I find enjoyable.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Typically when going to the manor for “family” business versus “bat,” Jason parked by the main entrance, at the end of the driveway. This time around however he’d pulled an all-nighter of the Red Hood variety, so he arrived through the cave entrance. He was early today; plans to help Alfred with breakfast. It was a tentative new tradition, something he was positive had been Dick’s idea, but Alfred was the one who’d brought it up to him. They all knew he wouldn’t refuse their pseudo grandfather. An underhanded trick in his opinion, one they all utilized against one another, but none of them had yet called the others out on that. </p><p>So far their regularly scheduled “family bonding” had been a success; none of them had been maimed or murdered. That meant good things, he figured. </p><p>A detour to the mudroom to remove his jacket and boots where he eyed the questionable stains for all of ten seconds, and then he made his way to the kitchen, tossing the butler a sideways grin when he entered. To no one’s surprise there was a cup of tea already set out for him, despite that he was early. Just another one of those Alfred things they all knew better than to question.</p><p>They had theories about that. Maybe Alfred had access to a security system no one but he knew of. Jason preferred thinking he was on a completely different omniscient level than everyone else. </p><p>“Good morning, Master Jason. Should I have made up a coffee for you instead?” </p><p>The question had Jason chuckling as he lifted the cup to his mouth, taking a sip. Perfect, as always, because Alfred didn’t fix tea like a heathen. Looking at you, Tim and Steph. (Cassandra got herself a free pass.) “Nah, Alfie. I had a solid eight hours before I went out last night. I can still be trusted in the kitchen, scout’s honor.” </p><p>“That’s presuming you know a thing or two about ‘scout’s honor,’” the butler jested lightly, succeeding in pulling an amused snort from Jason. </p><p>He kept his cup close at hand as they worked around each other, content listening to Alfred’s soft humming. He’d missed moments like these, taking the time to spend with the older man, learning from him as a teenager while Bruce was off doing his own thing. This time of day, that usually meant getting an hour of sleep before he had to put on the Brucie act. It was a nostalgic feeling for him to remember those days, to recall memories that usually had a sharp, bittersweet tang to them. </p><p>Steadily, the kitchen began to fill up, beginning with Damian. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but Jason could grudgingly admit that Dick’s hard work with the kid had been paying off. He was perfectly pleasant as he settled in his usual place, sketchbook under arm to set next to him. He was already dressed and ready to go out with Dick after they ate. Jason listened to him exchange morning pleasantries with Alfred while he plated the batch of crepes he’d just finished making.</p><p>Damian looked up at another presence in the doorway, and Jason was surprised he didn’t scowl upon seeing Bruce when he was clearly expecting Dick. “Good morning, father.” His gaze did dart to the entrance again, a slight frown wrinkling his eyebrows. </p><p>“Good morning, Damian. Jason.” </p><p>Jason gave Bruce a “hmp” sound as he splashed the waffle iron with a few droplets of water, to check that it was ready. Satisfied with the instant sizzling, he grabbed the bowl Alfred had just finished mixing. The waffles were solely for the girls and Dick, the latter of which had developed a taste for them lately with whatever toppings were within reach. This morning, that would be strawberries and whipped cream. If he wanted anything more special than that, he could get off his happy tail and get it himself. “When did Goldie say he was gonna show up, Dames?” </p><p>“Hm?” Bruce glanced up at Jason from smoothing down Damian’s hair, going to take his seat in time for Alfred to set his coffee down. Chances were, he probably didn't even know about any plans Dick and Damian had. </p><p>“Tt. Richard should have arrived ten minutes ago.” </p><p>“It’s cute you still hold him to such precise standards,” Jason teased, smirking at Damian’s annoyed huff. He turned his eyes back to the waffle iron, closing it up once he was content with the batter level. That ready, he moved onto the fruit and berries that had been rinsed, leaving room at the stove for Alfred to start on eggs while he pulled the blender out.</p><p>“I’m sure Master Dick will arrive shortly,” Alfred politely interjected before anyone could take advantage of the opportunity to bicker. Spoilsport.</p><p>“You know how he is, Damian.” Bruce took a sip of his coffee, shooting Alfred a grateful look over the mug. “It’s likely he had himself a late night and overslept.”</p><p>That, Jason could believe. He considered the idea as he carefully measured out the yogurt, because yes the amount of each ingredient did make a difference, and he was prepared to argue that fact with Dick and Steph all day if he had to. Again.</p><p>“Richard is rarely late when he commits to engagements with me. If he didn’t work himself so hard–” Damian began, and Jason grinned at him over the counter as he flipped on the blender, gesturing to it and mouthing “What’s that? I can’t hear you.” </p><p>The kid clearly had grown some if he didn’t rise to the easy bait. All it earned Jason was a flat look.</p><p>When it flipped off, Bruce was giving him a look of his own that managed to be both fond and exasperated. Jason liked to think that expression existed because of him. He’d seen it often enough during his Robin years. “Damian, why don’t you try giving him a call? He might have forgotten to set his alarm.” </p><p>The suggestion earned him a determined nod, phone already in hand to do exactly that. Jason leaned across the counter to offer Damian a glass filled with the smoothie he'd interrupted him to make. “Thank you, Todd,” he remarked mildly, not looking up from the screen when he reached for the glass.</p><p>“Huh. Miracles do happen,” Jason observed, not missing Alfred’s amused huff as the teenager held the phone to his ear. </p><p>By the time Tim wandered in with a beeline for his own coffee, Damian was scowling now. He’d failed to reach Dick with three calls so far, and was in the middle of typing a message out to him. Anyone that didn’t know him might have said he was annoyed, but Jason didn’t buy it. The tiny assassin was <i>worried.</i> </p><p>“How about you and I swing by his place when we’re finished here?” Jason surprised even himself with the question. He shrugged at Damian’s suspicious look. “I don’t have any plans today, and it’s out of the way for WE. Might as well give you the ride, instead of Bruce and Timmy making a detour, or Alfie taking you.” Damian didn’t know what Dick had in mind for their morning together, but he’d been yapping animatedly to Jason about it ever since he’d learned their youngest brother had the day off and started making plans for the two of them. He knew Dick would feel bad if he slept through it, and Jason couldn’t stand that guilt-ridden face of his. It was like kicking a puppy.</p><p>“Who’s place?” Tim piped up, popping a torn off bit of toast into his mouth, despite the frown it always earned from Alfred when he got butter on his fingers. To add further insult, he wiped them off on his pants instead of the napkin Alfred pointedly set down beside his plate. “Dick?” </p><p>Damian sat up straighter, and it was in his interactions with Tim that Jason saw most of their youngest’s progress. For starters, there actually was interaction, not point blank disregard or too-heated scathing remarks that were unearned, even in Jason’s opinion. He actually wasn’t positive the last he’d heard <i>”Drake”</i> hissed in utter contempt. “Yes. Richard had stated he would be here for breakfast this morning, and then we are to spend my holiday together, although he refrained from telling me what his intentions were.” </p><p>Jason snorted, going around the counter to ruffle his hair after he placed a dish of fruit and crepes between the boys and Bruce. “It’s one day off school for a data dive, Dames, not spring break in Florida.” Even so, he caught Tim’s eye over Damian’s head, catching the downward tilt of his mouth. It wasn’t an immediate sign of trouble exactly, but Dick had been, once again, spreading himself thin over the last few months, like he was desperate to be the duct tape trying to force their family to stay together. Jason, and Tim as well from the looks of it, fully expected him to crash from it all soon. </p><p>Jason slipped back to the counter to tend the waffles. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Tim with his phone out, typing away on it. The teen ate one-handed and chattered away with Bruce about a few meetings that were scheduled for later in the week. He didn’t have to ask to know Tim was checking in on Dick in his own way, likely by consulting with Barbara and snooping. Further confirmation of that fact was a pause in the middle of speaking, enough to have Jason looking over at him even though he wasn’t even remotely following the WE related conversation. </p><p>“Tim?” Bruce lowered his spoon to his plate with a frown. </p><p>“Dick uh.” Tim’s eyes darted to Damian, Bruce, then held with Jason’s. He belatedly realized he was gripping the counter, and forced his fingers to relax as Tim continued. “It doesn’t look like he went home after he went out last night as Nightwing. There’s no sign on him on the cameras near his block, and his security was never deactivated.” </p><p>***</p><p>The breakfast table hadn’t quite erupted into chaos at Tim’s discovery, but it was close. Bruce was on the phone instantly, calling who knew, and Tim contacted Stephanie to see if she or Cassandra had heard from their brother. It wasn’t unusual for Dick to carpool with them since he’d gotten his new apartment in Gotham, or even sleep over every so often, especially when he knew the girls already had their own slumber plans under way. Stephanie would loudly complain about him crashing their party after patrol, but she always showed off her nails proudly with Cassandra when Dick spent their time together painting them.</p><p>There was no such luck on that end. The girls hadn’t heard from him since they headed in for the night. They were almost to the manor, but offered to backtrack to go check out his apartment. Jason cut in on the call, snagging the phone from Tim to shoot down the suggestion. His hands itched with the need to do something, so once Alfred waved him away from cleanup, likely for the same restless need to do something, Jason was off. He took his bike straight to Dick’s apartment, a comm in his ear for any kind of update. He didn’t exactly want the neighbors to see the Red Hood had a key to Richard Grayson-Wayne’s apartment after all, so the helmet remained stashed away until he had something, anything to work with that wasn’t a green tease at the edges of his vision. </p><p>True to Tim’s word, the apartment was empty, everything left like Dick had just stepped out a few hours ago. As his usual response to the place, Jason’s nose wrinkled, surveying the controlled catastrophe that was his brother’s home. Case files were laid across the table, leaving no room for anything else. A cereal box on the counter, next to the fruit bowl Kory had gotten Dick as half tease, half genuine reminder to take care of himself once in a while. There was a towel over the kitchen chair, hoodies, shoes and jackets scattered around, and who knew what was on the coffee table by Dick’s laptop.</p><p>Don’t get him started on the dirty dishes in the kitchen. </p><p>The guest bedroom was shut, and a cursory check of that yielded no one hiding out in there. Dick’s bedroom was left open, typical if he wasn’t expecting someone over. Jason knew better, but part of him was hopeful this was just a false alarm, that he’d find Dick bundled up asleep in bed. Worst case scenario was that he’d worked himself into a cold or picked up a flu somewhere, and was too stubborn to admit it or ask for help. </p><p>No such luck. The room was just as empty as the rest of the place. Jason paused long enough to check the compartment Dick had installed for his gear, and as expected his suit was gone. He sighed at the sight, resigned to a new potential disaster. Par for the course. </p><p>“O?” He flipped on his comm, snooping through Dick’s things to keep his twitchy fingers busy. </p><p>“I assume this means he definitely isn’t there,” was the level answer, as if Babs expected anything else. She didn’t wait for him to confirm. “I’ve narrowed down his last coordinates, already sent them ahead to you. His tracker has been disabled, but I’m still digging.” </p><p>“Keep me updated.” Jason clicked off the line and pulled his phone out to check out what Barbara had sent him. </p><p>It was barely eight AM and it had already been a long day. </p><p>***</p><p>A long thirty minutes later finally had some real results between the lot of them. Those results would be a camera feed Barbara unearthed with a live feed to the cell Dick was in, and a group of professionals that had been hired to abduct Nightwing. It had been quick work from there to get a lock on the man who’d abducted their big brother, and Barbara assured them all that she’d cut the feed from any other source. She was the only one who could access the current footage (undetected of course), and used that to keep an eye on Dick. So far things were tense, but his abductor had yet to actually hurt him. </p><p>That wasn’t any reason to take their time. </p><p>Being the closest to Dick, Red Hood was en route to the new location Barbara sent them all, with Red Robin and Spoiler not far behind. Batman and Robin would back them up with Black Bat once they tied up their loose ends, i.e. hired help. Jason was sure that one of them was getting further information on the man behind the abduction, but he couldn’t give two fucks about those details right then. </p><p>“I know you’re already moving quickly Hood. But move faster.” </p><p>The sudden command had Jason’s eyes narrowing, grip on his grapple gun tightening as he lowered himself to ground level behind the building. The situation was already less than stellar from Barbara’s narration. Jason knew Dick was being interrogated, and things could always go sideways at any second. The tightness in her voice suggested it was about to do just that. Judging from the lack of any other voices, he concluded she’d redirected his comms to a private channel with her, to avoid distracting him while he searched for Dick.</p><p>“I’m entering now.” </p><p>It wasn’t a warehouse like the usual criminals went for, but an obscure company, much like WE had it been on a smaller scale. Blueprints determined there to be a penthouse on the top floor, for the rich bastard behind all of this, and a basement. Underground. That wasn’t sketchy at all. They were all positive that’s where Dick would have been. It was hardly work at all for Jason to get past security guarding the basement, and Barbara had her eyes on the cameras in those corridors as well which meant moving through the halls undetected was almost too easy. Hints had been dropped that there was further hired help, but Oracle suspected they were more of the genius variety rather than the guns that wrangled Nightwing in the first place. </p><p>Barbara cursed colorfully in Jason’s ear, causing him to pause before a corner while he waited for her to elaborate. “Nightwing has been unmasked.” There was a clatter of typing on her end, the increased volume indicative of her nerves. She was likely updating Bruce of the situation. </p><p>In other words, Jason needed to nip the whole thing in the bud before that information could be used. It was a direct leap between Nightwing and Batman, and thanks to Barbara only the asshole electrocuting him had seen. So far.</p><p>That was fine. Jason could handle this. </p><p>“Hood.” Her voice was tense, making the Pit-tint over his vision a few shades darker. “Hurry.” </p><p>Nearly there. He moved quickly, the directions to Dick’s location repeating themselves in his mind. </p><p>That’s when he heard the scream. </p><p>“No!” Barbara shouted in his ear, muffling a sob with her hand. </p><p>The scream lasted far too long, choked off abruptly. Dick should never sound like that. Jason felt detached from the moment, unaware of anything but the hallway in front of him. A pistol was in his hand when he rounded the last corner, stopping only when he heard a voice. Low, murmured, just loud enough to be heard over the unmistakable sound of his brother <i>keeinging</i> in obvious distress.</p><p>“That looked like it hurt a little.” A laugh, like the man was actually amused by what he’d done. “I’ve only just begun, Mr. Grayson. You and I both know you can take much more than this.” </p><p>Jason stepped through the open door then, pulling the hammer back on his pistol. The scene that met him was saturated in green. Dick, body jolting against the floor and blood on his face, on his side in a puddle of water. The man that dared touch his brother knelt next to him, one escrima stick held loosely with the other within reach on the floor. His other hand was cupping a wet cheek, like a goddamn <i>lover,</i> like this was something intimate, thumb dragging across Dick’s red lips. This <i>creep</i> was so engrossed in his victim that he hadn’t noticed a newcomer. </p><p>And Dick’s eyes....</p><p>Any kind of control or logical thinking Jason might have had left him when the dots connected, completely replaced with rage. </p><p>His gun might have been loaded with rubber bullets, but they could still be a lethal projectile when fired point-blank. </p><p>Especially when Jason stormed into the room and fisted a tight handful of hair to make that surprised face turn up to him, and pressed the muzzle against his eye. Bastard probably didn’t even realize he was about to die before Jason pulled the trigger. </p><p>He tossed the body to the side before the sound finished echoing in the room, uncaring that Barbara had just witnessed him murder a man in cold blood. </p><p>Looking down at his brother, Jason doubted she would hold it against him.</p><p>For a second there, Jason almost wondered if Dick was having a seizure. He kicked the corpse further away, none too gently in his desire to get it away from Dick, and crouched down next to him, feeling sick. </p><p>“Fuck, Big Bird.” His voice caught on the words, and he cleared his throat. Compartmentalize, until he knew Dick wasn’t going to die on him. Then he could let himself come unglued. A little easier said than done.</p><p>Dick’s eyes were… It wasn’t good. The electricity had burned into the flesh around his eyes, blackening the skin. Blood oozed from the mess, because that was the only way to describe it. A <i>mess,</i> of wet, smoking flesh. Around his eyes was a perfect imprint of his mask, reddened with electrical burns and shiny from where adhesive had melted into the skin. </p><p>Blood ran from his nose, a red flag if Jason ever saw one, and there was a burn against his cheek and throat each. Jason removed his helmet, and the cloying scent of blood and burned flesh met his nose, nearly changing his mind. But he set it down anyway, his hands fluttering uselessly over Dick’s face, before finally settling on his cheek, as if that would cover up the touch from the psycho laying behind him. </p><p>“Ambulance en route. ETA, approximately six minutes,” Barbara’s clipped tone informed him through his earwig, then the audio clicked off. She probably needed a minute. He sure fucking did. </p><p>He hadn’t seen. She had.</p><p>“Oh, Dickie,” Jason murmured, careful to keep his tone gentle. </p><p>“J-Jay?” And oh fuck. Dick was still conscious and aware. Jason suddenly wished he wasn’t. He didn’t reprimand him for the use of his name. Couldn’t even think to, not when he was suffering for the sake of secret identities. “Jason?” There was an obvious lisp. His tongue was bitten through, lips not cooperating properly around the word. Spit and blood drooled off his teeth and lips as he spoke, prompting Jason to run a thumb across his chin to wipe it away. </p><p>“That’s right, Dickiebird. It’s me.” He froze as Dick choked on a sob, wincing at the way it pulled against his shoulders. He had a knife out quickly, slicing through the elaborate ropework wrapping from wrists up to his torso, tying him to the floor. Jason winced, noting the swelling in the right shoulder through his suit. It might have been dislocated, but that was the least of their problems. At least the shoulder would heal.</p><p>A harsh breath forced itself past Dick’s sobs, an attempt to get air through a panic. “I can’t see.” Oh god. He was not equipped for this. He couldn’t– “Jay, I-I can’t– I can’t see.” </p><p>The statement hit Jason like a sack of bricks and he brought his fist to his mouth, biting down on the side of his gloved hand. <i>Compartmentalize,</i> he reminded himself harshly. </p><p>He’d been fully prepared for anything, or he’d thought. Broken bones, blood, burns, bruises and drowning were all typical for abductions in their life. It was a risk they all knew they were taking, and Dick had been at it since he was younger than them all, barring the horror that was Damian’s childhood. </p><p>So some serious injuries, yeah, Jason could handle that. </p><p>This was… Dick was <i>maimed.</i> Forget scars. He’d been <i>blinded</i> with his own goddamn weapons. </p><p>Jason didn’t want to admit he was scared Dick might not survive long enough for that to matter. Until he was out of here, there wasn’t any way of knowing what kind of damage might have been caused to his brain. That was hardly considering potential shock.</p><p>He’d taken too long to respond, unable to look away from Dick’s face. One of Dick’s arms moved, and it was clearly a struggle, though Jason thought that was probably due to his jerking limbs, rather than the shoulder injuries. His hand was clumsy when it found Jason’s wrist. The contact allowed him to feel the tremors in Dick’s body, and the new shudders alarmed Jason for a second, until he recognized it for the sobbing it was. Dick was crying, but all that leaked from his eyes was blood and odd fluids Jason didn’t want to think about. </p><p>“I-I know, Dick.” He forced himself to speak, regretting that his voice betrayed him. He took a careful breath as Dick’s hands tightened on his wrist, numbly noting noise building in the background. Sirens, perhaps. He needed to move Dick; it wouldn’t do to waste time waiting for paramedics to make it down here. </p><p>He shifted then, making sure to keep a firm hold on him so Dick could predict movement as he pulled him up, into his lap. He pressed his mouth to the top of Dick’s head, noting for the first time his hair was damp, drying stiffly against Jason’s lips and nose as he hushed him. He breathed in, closing his eyes to better take in the scent of Dick’s shampoo, the tang of salt, sweat, anything he could instead of the thick scents around them.</p><p>“I can’t see.” He almost didn’t hear the whisper, and it sounded like Dick was telling himself. God, did Dick even know how bad it was? Dick gripped onto the edges of Jason’s jacket, the grip weaker than it ever should have been. “I can’t see.” </p><p>“I’m sorry Dick. I’m so sorry.” He didn’t even know if Dick could hear what he was saying, but it was all Jason had. He hoped Dick was loaded into the ambulance before Batman arrived. They still had their differences, and a part of him fueled further by the pit in his veins would always blame Bruce for everything, but Jason didn’t want him to see Dick like this. </p><p>Maybe he was selfish, and it was himself he didn’t want Bruce to see. </p><p>“I’m so fucking sorry.” </p><p>He had no idea if Dick even heard him, as he’d finally grown still and quiet. Jason automatically reached for his pulse to find it thready, but satisfied it was still there. Good enough until someone more qualified than he could take over. Until then...</p><p>He eyed the camera up in the corner, easing Dick back down. This whole damn situation was because some unstable creep wanted to know who Batman was. Like hell was Jason going to piss on Dick’s suffering by letting a handful of emergency responders see an unmasked Nightwing. Some grumpy words were probably going to be said about this later (as if the suit would ever be used again), but Jason jumped into action, taking up his forgotten knife to make quick work of the sturdy fabric and compression shirt beneath it, careful not to jostle Dick’s shoulders too much. </p><p>Soon enough, Dick Grayson was simply Dick Grayson in his underwear, not a sign of Nightwing to give him away. Unless someone looked a little too closely at the domino-shaped burns around his eyes, but the injuries they surrounded were probably distracting enough to deter away from that little detail.</p><p>Once finished he spared a second to put on his helmet and put his weapons away, then planted his feet beneath him to heave the two of them up. When they were standing he kicked aside the suit, with more care than he had the man he’d shot. Dick’s belt and ruined mask peeked out beneath it, a few feet away from the abandoned escrima stick. He left them there for now. The other stick was still gripped in the dead man’s hand. </p><p>It was when he was nearing the way he’d come inside that Jason realized distantly he was running on autopilot. The sound of light, rapid footsteps jerked him out of his head, and his fingers twitched against Dick’s thigh for a split second. He debated putting his brother down, hand aching to wrap around the grip of a pistol, until he recognized the footfalls. His “backup.” He’d forgotten. He felt a spike of panic suddenly, and hefted Dick just a bit higher, so he could turn his face against Jason’s chest, forearm at the back of his head to hold him in place there.  </p><p>He’d genuinely <i>loathed</i> his replacement once upon a time, and who knew how much of that was the Pit and how much was true resentment. Stephanie was an annoying little sister on the best of days, an absolute pain in his ass on the worst. But however he felt now or in the past, he didn’t want either of them to see Dick like this. </p><p><i>Dick</i> wouldn’t want them to see him like this. </p><p>Tim and Stephanie suddenly skid around the corner, and came to a full stop when they saw Jason. Another day, he might have teased them for being the clumsiest Robins he’d seen. </p><p>Tim had forgone the cowl and cape of his suit, wearing a domino mask instead, and it left his face open for the stricken expression that came over it. “...Dick?” Tim took a wary step forward, glancing at Stephanie over his shoulder before straightening up, composing himself. It made Jason feel better about essentially hiding Dick’s injuries from Tim. “The ambulance is just outside. Oracle advised they wait for you.” </p><p>Jason gave a curt nod, and continued walking past them as Stephanie opened her mouth. She closed it just as abruptly, stepping aside to make room for him. “Sweep the place. O suggested there may be others involved, and I wasn’t quiet.” Her expression hardened beneath her hood, not missing the hint Jason had left. Oddly enough, she didn’t look like she was about to argue.</p><p>It wasn’t until Jason was outside, handing Dick off to the people he had to trust would get him the help he needed, that Jason realized Stephanie might have gotten a glimpse of Dick’s face when he pressed past her. </p><p>Jason watched the ambulance peel off, sirens sharp in his ears, before going back inside. He trusted Red Robin and Spoiler to take care of anyone who would have apprehended him or any other cape to show up, and stalked through the hallways. He found Tim standing in the center of the room Dick had been in, staring down at the body. The teenager gave Jason a wary look when he entered, making no other move just yet. </p><p>“You would have done it too, Replacement.” The word, once an insult, held none of the usual bite Jason slipped into it. Tim didn’t respond.</p><p>With that, he turned and stared up at the camera, knowing Barbara was still watching him. He aimed his gun into the corner and fired, before walking out of the room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings:<br/>Graphic description of eye injuries/burns. As stated in Dick's POV, think Supernatural angel-induced eye trauma. There's also some witnessed panic of another character, not really described.<br/>Also death of the bad guy. Quick, not described. And Jason swears. That happens. </p><p> </p><p>If you made this this far, it's probably safe to admit I had this titled as 'plot holes plot holes blah blah blah" for the past week.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>